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5 Mar 2013

Lake Baikal: Awe-inspiring & terrifying!

Lake Baikal is one of the natural
wonders of the world, and its statistics are mind-boggling. It is the oldest lake in the world, and also
the largest, at least in terms of volume.
It contains a staggering 23,615 cubic kilometres of water, and just a few
miles out from shore drops to a depth of a mile. It also straddles three fault lines, the movement of which has resulted in its immense depth. It contains a vast amount of marine life, 75%
of which is found nowhere else on the planet.
It is aptly named the Blue Eye of Siberia and glitters for 400 miles
from North to South in the summer, but in early March it is covered in a crust
of ice nearly 2 metres thick. From Listvyanka it stretches vast and white,
eastwards for 40 miles until it abruptly ends at the foot of an impressive
mountain range.

Day No.

Day

Date

Cities

City

Transport

Kms travelled

Kms Running total

Hours travelled

Night accommodation

17

Fri

01/03/2013

1

Listvyanka

Bus

74

8867

2

Baikal
Dream

18

Sat

02/03/2013

0

Travel

Walking

20

8887

4

Lesnaya 7

19

Sun

03/03/2013

1

Bolshie
Koty

-

0

8887

0

Lesnaya 7

20

Mon

04/03/2013

0

Bolshie
Koty

Walking

20

8907

4

Baikal
Dream

21

Tue

05/03/2013

0

Listvyanka

Taxi

74

8981

2

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Our plan was to hike to an old gold
mining hamlet called Bolshie Koty, about 20km further North up the shore and
spend some days in a cabin there. In
summer there is a hiking trail that runs through the woods, but in winter the
quickest way to travel is across the ice.
So we set off, sharing the immense expanse with only the occasional
supply truck rumbling past.

The ice formations are incredible –
every few miles there are seams in the ice sheet where temperature fluctuations
cause it to buckle 6 feet or more into the air, in great glistening
spires. After a couple of hours, John
has developed an impressive ice-moustache or “face-icles” as we call them.

The sky is clear and sunny, and we
are feeling smug about having shunned the services of a guide. Little did we know at that point that our
smugness would be short lived… but more of that later.

Only about four and a half hours
from Listvyanka we saw the small hamlet, Bolshie Koty, appear on the
shore. Population: 40. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t take long to find
the cabin we had reserved. As Josi keeps
reminding, there are supposed to be elements of honeymoon to this year, but
once again John had to disappoint her!
No water, no central heating (or even a wood burner), no electricity
between 10pm and 10am, and an outdoor toilet that would make Ray Mears think
twice. “It’ll be an experience” said
John. And he was right. As the thermometer nudged -18˚C we lay under
blankets and jackets and waited for the single electric radiator to come on at
10am. Our alarm clock would be the
kettle that John had cunningly already filled, plugged in and turned on. It was a long cold night.

Owing to the slightly out of kilter
time zones in Russia, the evenings were light but the sun-rise was long
awaited. And so it was that at 10am we
were awoken by the wispy rays of sunlight and the hoarse whisperings of the
kettle.

We spent the day exploring Bolshie
Koty, which despite its diminutive size, does have some very quaint, highly
decorative wooden houses. Its setting on
the quiet cove of the lake shore is beautiful, but we thought what a tough
existence it would be to live here.

A second night survived, we packed
up and headed back out on to the ice to begin our hike back to Listvyanka. But it didn’t take us long to notice that the
ice wasn’t quite the same as it had been when we crossed over. Every so often sledge and tire-tracks which
had previously run straight as far as the eye could see, now abruptly ended,
only to continue several feet to the left or right. The ice had shifted dramatically and with it
large walls of ice had risen up like continental plates colliding.

As we stood about half a mile from the
shore listening, we could hear the ice creaking and groaning underfoot. Trying not to think about the mile of
ice-cold water that lay beneath us, we pressed on until… BOOM!!! A sound like thunder tore across the lake and
sent shockwaves reverberating around us.
The shuddering of the ice was enough to make us stagger and for a moment
we braced ourselves, half expecting the ice to open beneath us. But it held solid, and we had no choice but
to continue, mildly reassured that the locals would be using this route for at
least another 6 weeks. Not so reassuring
were the areas where trenches of water had opened up, bridged only by a jumble
of ice blocks. We moved very carefully
over these. There were also areas where
open water had re-frozen, resulting in an eerily rippled, glass hard surface,
as though time had suddenly stood still.

John unwittingly perfects the C3PO walk!

Three hours later, and the rusty
carcasses of the scrapyard that marks the northern edge of Listvyanka, had
never looked so appealing. Back on terra
firma, we thanked God for safely getting us back, and then went to the local
fish market to buy lunch before heading back to our homestay. Unshowered for 3 days, and with a smoked Omul
tucked into his jacket, John had all the hallmarks of a Siberian exile.

Back at our homestay, our eccentric
host Nikolai met us in his speedos, excitedly telling us that he was heating
his “banya” (Russian Sauna) for his other guests, and would we like to use it
afterwards? That sounded like a great
idea, and so an hour later we found ourselves wearing felt hats and lying
prostrate in 94˚C heat, with Nikolai manically flicking us with molten hot
birch twigs. Then outside for handfuls
of snow on our backs and a bucket of cold water. Left in no doubt that we were indeed still
alive, we turned in for a very long sleep…